#lee!bipper

“Whoah, whoah, hey-- hey, HEY!”

SMASH!

The cake prop crashed against the ground with a horrible crackling sound, breaking apart beneath both of their weights. There was a collective jump and gasp from the startled crowd. Even the puppets themselves-- or, at least, the soul piloting them-- seemed taken off guard.

Despite the panic and destruction, neither Bipper nor Mabel took too long to shake it off. Bipper landed on the ground, on his stomach, just a few feet away from Mabel, who’d landed on her side. Instantly, he pushed himself up, eyes wide, feeling around the floor for the journal. A stagelight swiveled, reflecting off the shiny gold cover, and both of them leapt for it with the determination of a starving animal on a hunt. They touched down at the very same time. They wore matching, angry glares, each gripping the journal so tightly that their knuckles were turning white. Mabel knew, as she squinted to avoid the spotlight, that there was no hope in saving the show. But there was hope for saving her brother! And if that meant sabotaging everything she worked for, then…Well, it was about time she sacrificed something for Dipper. 

They rolled across the stage, tumbling over one another, until Bipper’s head reached the edge. If he craned his neck backwards enough, he could see the confused and terrified face of the audience. Something he would’ve found amusing, if the stakes weren’t so high. Mabel was on top of him, her knee on his stomach, and both hands on the journal, tugging and yanking with all her might. He just held on, harder, gritting his teeth. The very same thought was in both of their minds. I’ve almost got it!

“Get out of my brother’s body, you evil triangle!!” Mabel yelled, pressing her leg down even harder. Enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to cause any lasting damage. She really had to engrain that thought into her head. Once Bill got out of here-- and she would get him out of here-- it would be Dipper’s body suffering the consequences. He’d already been through too much. It turned out to be just enough to get the book to slip out of his hands. Both of their eyes widened in shock, but before Bill could give too much chase, she made sure to whack him with the journal. Just for good measure. She’d wanted to do that this whole time!!

Mabel stumbled to her feet, running back to center stage, just as Bipper was starting to sit up and rub his forehead. He growled, in a way she hadn’t heard since she was in Stan’s mind, in a way she knew her brother couldn’t replicate if he tried. Fascinatingly, she watched as his face seemed to heat up, reddening his skin even more than it had been already, as he pushed himself off the ground. If he were human, she may have assumed his failure had embarrassed him. But this was Bill, they were talking about…so, if she had to guess, this was his human-body equivalent of his yellow turning red. Kinda cute! In a weird, gross way. 

“Grrr…You can’t stop me!” He scowled, his eyes narrowing on the book. Mabel looked behind her. The set pieces blocked access backstage from this side, and while she could move to the stage stairs, or even jump down, that’d take a good amount of coordination. Before she could decide…she was leapt on. She gasped, feeling the air leave her lungs as she was tackled to the wooden floor. The journal slipped from her grasp, and landed on the floor beside her. Both she and Bipper placed their hands on it at the same time, hers on the edge, and his on the palm of the cover. Bipper was sitting on top of her, straddling her waist, his chest heaving as he panted. She felt breathless, too. But, as she stared up at him, still pink in the face, and with a tired, yet satisfied grin on his face…It was as if something clicked in her mind.

“I’m a being of pure energy, with no weakness!”

Mabel stared at him, almost in disbelief. It seemed so obvious. In any other circumstance, it would’ve been the very first thing she thought of, when searching for a method to gain the upper hand in combat, without actually hurting the other person. She did it to Dipper all the time! So often, in fact, that she figured the townsfolk wouldn’t bat an eye, if they saw her do this at her own show. For the first time, it was her turn to get to wear that smug, knowing smirk. She brought her other hand around to rest over the journal like a seat belt, just so he couldn’t snatch it while she talked. 

“True…But you’re in Dipper’s body!” She reminded, to which he huffed, as if offended. What, did she think he forgot? For once, it was like she could read his mind, because she picked up for him. She lifted the hand that wasn’t protecting the journal, and wiggled her fingers.

“And I know all his weaknesses!~”

Bipper quirked a brow. In the split second between her final comment, and what she was going to do next, she could see the cogs visibly turning behind his eyes. He wasn’t used to not knowing what was about to happen. Typically, at a glance, he could look at a person and see right through to their mind, where he could pluck their thoughts and plans right out. Sometimes, he knew what someone was about to do before they did. Having to rationalize like a human made it so he had to manually run through his own mental database, for what she could possibly mean…It was such a broad assessment. He was human, for christs’ sake. What wasn’t a weakness to them, really? They couldn’t handle being stretched too far, or bleeding too much, and their limbs could only bend to a certain point. Humanity was so fragile! It was honestly a mystery how they survived so long. But he’d pinned her like this for a reason; how could she possibly hurt him? 

“What do you mean his--?”

Before he could finish, Mabel lifted her wiggling fingers…and slipped her hand into his jacket, pressing them just underneath his arm. 

Bipper felt as if his entire body seized. In the half-second that the sensation touched down, he was overcome with a surge of physical reactions he’d never experienced before. First, he shivered, goosebumps freckling over his skin. It was as if every nerve in his body ignited, with an odd, fluttery tingling. Worse, perhaps…was the way he vocally reacted.He gasped, and squeaked, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaping from his throat. The glare, which he’d taken pride in withstanding, was forcibly wiped from his expression, replaced by a shaky smile. It felt like his insides were bubbling. But when he opened his mouth to express that concern…he realized what it was.

“GaHhh--! AAAaahhahahahahaha!” It was the urge to laugh. Uncontrollable giggles poured out of him like bubbles to a heated cauldron. The heat he felt rush to his face only made that metaphor seem all the more accurate. Mabel and the audience might’ve heard Dipper’s voice, but he heard his own. The helplessness in his tone disgusted him. Out of his own control, his reflexes went haywire, demanding that he get anywhere as long as it was away. Robbed of the motor skills required for any complex movements, he found himself toppling backwards, pinning his arms to his sides. He’d hoped falling would be enough to put distance between him and his tormentor, but it seemed like the opposite had occurred. The moment he was down, she took advantage, by climbing on top of his waist, instead. She wriggled the fingers of both of her hands under each of his arms, ruthlessly scribbling for long enough for him to feel as if any attempts at fighting back would be futile. And then, she slid both hands down, grazing his ribs, before settling on his sides. The motion elicited another yelp, and another full-body shiver, before he settled back into the helpless giggling that had possessed him before. 

It was unusual. It was unbearable. It…tickled.

“Tickle tickle!~” Mabel cooed, and for some reason, Bipper felt a heat rush to his cheeks. In fact, the burning sensation stretched all the way to the tips of his ears, making him feel compelled to wrench his eyes shut and turn his head away. The words-- or was it that voice?-- made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Somehow, it seemed like her touch only tickled more, the teasing worsening the odd hypersensitivity afflicting his nerves. His hands locked around her wrists, and he arched his back, shoving pitifully while he used his heels to kick at the ground. Whether it was due to the tickle-induced weakness, or the pose was just that effective, he didn’t get anywhere. Mabel smirked, baring her braces like fangs, like she could see just how much the comment worked on him. Dipper couldn’t stand that, either!

“Awww, whatsa matter?~ Does it tiiiickle?~ Are you too tiiicklish to handle it?~ Kitchy-kitchy-koo!~”

“S-StahahaAAahahahahahahap!” He hissed, scowling, cursing the stutter in his voice. Damn Pine Tree’s twitchy little body and his squeaky little voice! How did he live, being so sensitive?? He couldn’t bear to listen to another word of that teasing, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. And, in retaliation, Mabel’s nails skittered upwards again. They passed over his ribs, before again settling into a gentle scratch just under his arms. It got the exact same reaction the downward motion over the same spot had caused; a gasp, a yelp, and a full-body shiver, all before his arms snapped right back down again. Both of them seemed irritated by that last response.

“AAGhh-! Whyhyhyhyhyhyhyhy cahahahahahahahan’t I mohohohohove my ahahahahahahahaharms?!”

“Reflexes!” Mabel chimed in, instantly, as if it were obvious. To a human, it may have been, but for Bill, ‘reflexes’ were an entirely foreign concept. He’d never felt so…effortlessly disarmed. And that was coming from someone who spent a good chunk of his life in the second dimension, and, the rest of the time, was confined to the mindscape. He was already relatively harmless. But somehow, when he had a physical body to interpret reality with, being helpless was so much more torturous. He knew the human body was pathetic, but really, how had they survived this long as a species, if all it took were a few pokes to entirely collapse them?? Perhaps it was a combination of how unfamiliar the sensation was to him, and how sensitive Dipper’s body was, anyway…but he felt he reserved the right to mentally complain, anyway. He felt naturally more whiny. As if Mabel could tell, she grinned, and retracted a hand.

“Here, let me help you!”

Her now-free arm shifted backwards, so her hand could lock around his wrist…and force it upwards, pinning it to the ground beside his head. The other hand, that had been trapped in place, wriggled its way out. She crossed it over his body, and switched which side she was attacking, her claws now slipping into his jacket to scratch beneath the arm she’d pinned. It all happened so quickly, Bipper hardly had the chance to look horrified…before he fully squealed, his laughter ratcheting up another octave. 

“EEEEeeehheheheheek!! ‘Hehehehehehehehehelp’?!” He echoed, offended, the bite of his tone lost in his giggling. He wanted to argue more thoroughly, but good god, that tickled so much more!! He arched his back, jerked at his elbow, and turned to one side, desperate for something-- anything-- to put distance between his skin and her nails. Talk about feeling disarmed! He thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, and yet, here he was. 

“Yeah! Help! Now you don’t have to flail your arms around; you can just lay back and take it!” Mabel interjected, with an innocence that seemed far too natural for how cruel she was being. Bill saw some of himself in her, sometimes. With that kind smile, and flattery. So, sweetly deceptive. He had to hand it to her, she knew how to get ‘em! This girl was brimming with potential; the unicorns and butterflies and rainbows were just a thin blanket to mask the chaos that she was capable of. The little brat. Maybe he could use that someday. But now, it only aided in annoying him. 

“You’re welcome!~”

He wasn’t an idiot. He saw what she was trying to do. But just in case he didn’t, she told him, anyway. Mabel leaned down, eyes narrowed, so they were practically nose-to-nose. 

“Get outta Dipper’s body, or I’m gonna tickle you until you pass out!!”

He growled, trying to force the corners of his lips down into a frown. She wished it would be that easy! He may be weakened, and disarmed, but please! Who did she think he was? As if he suddenly realized he had control over his not-pinned hand, he reached over to try and grab at her wrist, to pry the hand attacking him away from the spot. It did work, partially, as the tugging would occasionally slide her hand downwards…but that only meant her wiggling fingers would graze his ribs, instead, and he’d be possessed by that yelp and full-body shiver that seemed to trigger every time. The reaction weakened him. As if he wasn’t weak enough! 

“Nehehehehehehehever!” He insisted, with just enough bite in his words for him to feel a swell of pride. He was starting to get used to it! His smile suddenly seemed all the more smug, practically a smirk, despite the fact that it was hardly warranted, in his current state. He was still laughing, and squirming, his entire body leaned to one side to reflexively counteract the nails scratching away at him. Mabel huffed. 

First, her eyes drifted to the stage. She wished she could see Dipper. To everyone else here, she was tormenting her innocent brother in front of an audience for no apparent reason. Worse, none of them, not even their most loved ones, would get an honest explanation. Whoops. She’d apologize to him later. In the meantime, she turned her head in the other direction.

Everyone out there seemed absolutely captivated. Well, for the most part, at least. Some seemed confused, others seemed shocked. A shocking amount seemed pretty flustered, while others sported the exact opposite mood. She could just barely see Candy and Grenda confusedly flipping through the script just off stage. But, generally, most of the crowd was enjoying this thrilling multi-media masterpiece. Even those from the Mystery Shack. In fact, maybe especially those three! Mabel couldn’t help but smile, as she met their eyes through the smearing, colorful stage lights.

Wendy was leaning back in her seat with her boots kicked up on the empty chair in front of her, an amused smirk on her face. Though she couldn’t hear anything coherent from the crowd from up here (and wouldn’t be able to, anyway, over Bipper’s high-pitched squealing), she could tell that Wendy snickered, as she elbowed Soos in the side. Soos was one of the members of the audience who seemed a little flustered over the whole endeavor. Even in the low lighting, Mabel could see just how red his face was. He was grinning nervously, and fanning himself with his cap, and flinched just a little too hard as he was nudged. It was all very sweet. Truthfully, she didn’t care if this ruined the show for most of the audience, because it wasn’t for them anymore. It was for Dipper! …But it did make her feel good, to see them enjoying themselves. And no one seemed to be enjoying himself more than Stan!

Earlier today, he seemed to be a little skeptical about coming. He was swayed incredibly easily though, which was rare for him. He was probably the most stubborn man the twins had ever met, and yet a good puppy-dog-eyed stare and a promise that the end would blow his mind was enough to convince him that maybe this memory was priceless. He’d even brought a camera to film it. Even with one of his eyes obscured by the pop-out window of the old recording device, she could see how widely he was grinning, the expression on his face one of fond amusement. He must have assumed that this was the ‘spectacular closing act’ that she’d been bragging about just a few hours earlier. It wasn’t, but if this went well, he’d never have to find that out! He caught her looking out upon the crowd, and tilted his head so more of his face was visible, his grin seeming all the more proud. He gave her a reassuring thumbs up, and she felt a new wave of confidence wash over her. She could do this.

Her eyes fell back to the demon pinned beneath her, who hadn’t stopped giggling and struggling since she shifted her attention a few moments ago. He’d probably been yelling insults she’d been too distracted to hear. She squinted at him suspiciously. If this were Dipper, she’d be jumping to his spot about now. Heck, that’s probably what she’d do when wrecking anyone! But…this wasn’t Dipper. It wasn’t ‘just anyone’. This was Bill! He already seemed to be getting the hang of this sensation, with how consistently now he was shoving at her hands, and how successful his thrashing was becoming. If she let up for even a second, he might even be able to wriggle away, or worse! She needed to not only tickle him to death, but she needed to make the session intense. What was something Dipper wouldn’t be able to stand…? 

Her gaze flickered to the crowd again. And, suddenly…she stopped.

Her smirk returned. Her wiggling fingers ceased, and instead that hand grabbed Bipper’s opposite wrist, so she was now pinning both to the floor. The demon-possessed vessel gasped the moment he felt a moment of solace, obviously annoyed by the fact that his giggle-fit didn’t immediately die. Every time he inhaled, or exhaled, he found he couldn’t stop laughing, like the feeling was still there, under his skin. But he was too out of breath to do anything about it! He fought with this natural, human response, while Mabel sat up as straight as she could.

“For my next act, I’ll need a volunteer from the audience!” She announced, proudly, as if it made any logical sense. The poor crowd was going to be so confused. But she didn’t need most of their approval. She only needed it from one. She grinned, and shut one eye, so she could point directly at her grunkle.

“How about you, good sir? You look like you’d make a fine actor!”

Stan lifted his head away from the viewfinder, visibly startled. He glanced to either side of him, pointed to himself, and brightened when Mabel nodded in approval. He didn’t hesitate any longer than that, handing the camera over to Soos (who fumbled with it for a moment, before giving a reassuring thumbs up) and climbing out of his seat. 

Bipper was only just starting to regain his composure, when he realized what was going on. He shook his head, and blinked open his eyes, squinting out at the crowd. Jesus, had the kid’s eyes always been this bad? He almost missed Sixer’s glasses. But, the very moment he processed that Mabel’s hands had released his wrists…thick, strong arms wrapped underneath his, scooping him up into a sitting position, pressed against someone’s chest. He felt like a cat being hoisted into the arms of their owner, unable to do anything but twist his shoulders and try to wriggle out of his grasp. Mabel was still sitting on his legs.  He glared over his shoulder. The light reflected off of Stan’s glasses, obscuring his eyes, and for some reason that made him look intimidating. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was in such a small, wimpy body; anyone could look like a threat, when everyone towered over you. His hands balled into fists.

“Wh-What is this?!” He scowled, stammering, trying to roll his shoulder to free it from the old man’s grasp. But it seemed like every inch that he managed to unwind, Stan just pulled him back even tighter. It was so effortless, it was hard to feel anything other than pathetic. No wonder this kid was getting tickled constantly! Everyone in town had a leg up on him!

“Let go of me!”

“This is called a grand finale!” Mabel declared, straightening her back and cracking her knuckles. The smirk on her face was downright sinister. An evil that Bill couldn’t help but think rivaled his own. She was an expert at this, wasn’t she? She knew this would up the game, considering the strength difference between them. Even with her best efforts, she wasn’t strong enough to keep him fully still. And even if she could, she’d lose leverage by being unable to use both hands. But the addition of another person-- him, especially-- had immobilized him completely, without her ever having to lift a finger. Not to mention how calculated this whole trap with her ‘grunkle’ had been. She hadn’t even had to speak word to him, for him to understand exactly where his place was, in all of this. Maybe they were psychic. Or maybe they really just did this that frequently. Man, he’d almost pity Pine Tree, if he deserved it! But he hardly had time to dwell on something like that, anyway. Not as he watched Mabel lift her wiggling fingers threateningly. 

“Last chance!”

She was bold, too. But so was he. And that would be his first mistake. Daringly-- challengingly-- he smirked.

“Pssh, yeah, right!” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. Mabel glared, as he turned up his nose, quirked a brow, and scoffed. Anyone who thought this was Dipper might almost see it as in-character behavior. He’d been similarly snarky, around this point in sessions. Stan even rolled his eyes right back, and tightened his grip, as if he’d found it predictable. But anyone who knew the truth, knew he wasn’t doing it for any reason other than to call her bluff. This was a pathetic excuse of a torture attempt. He thought smarting off would prove as much. When, actually…it did the exact opposite.

“Like I’d be convinced by a little tihihiiihihiHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLING--!!”

Mabel’s wiggling fingers finally dug into his ribs. And it felt so distinctly different from the other spots, or even from how it felt when she was just grazing them earlier. It was like he’d been electrocuted, from the way his body jolted uncontrollably, and the way the sensation gripped him like a shock. The yelp of terror that jumped from his throat broke in the middle, fully replaced by helpless cackles. 

…Okay. Maybe not his proudest moment.

Maybe he should’ve known better. Maybe being in this body too long was getting to him. Maybe the stupid, human impulses that he’d gotten so good at ignoring also included this vessel’s apparent desire to talk himself into corners just to get himself tickled. Whatever the case, the whole time this had been going on, the more he felt his resolve…slipping. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, like his body suddenly remembered that it hadn’t gotten proper sleep in over twenty-four hours. Every part of him was sore, not that pain could even begin to compete with the tickly jolts shooting through his ribs. He considered the pro’s and con’s of dislocating a shoulder just to weasel out of here, but he couldn’t properly think. He swore he could literally feel circuits shorting in his brain, glitching and sparking and stuttering where the neat rows of coherent thought used to be. It had been a beautiful process to watch, from the other side…but was miserably frustrating, when it was your plans getting thrown out of whack! 

He wanted to growl. To kick, and scream, and either kill this vessel or one of the two holding him back. Whichever came first! But, all that came out was…

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

…A very pathetic attempt at defiance. Enough that each of his attackers dared to snicker at him in amusement. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, thrashing and twisting in the restraints.

“W-WHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEN I GEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUT OF THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIS, IHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--!!”

Mabel couldn’t help but notice just how…not-evil he looked, like this. Bill’s base form had no mouth, and yet he somehow always seemed to be grinning. Earlier, she’d seen that condescending smirk in Bipper. But now it was gone, and she was seeing a face she’d never quite seen before. It wasn’t quite the flustered, giggly look she got from her brother, but it was far from the invisible, malevolent smile that Bill was always wearing. It was something in between. It might’ve fascinated her, if she was any less focused on the task at hand. Her nails, while dull, knew how to press just right, to tickle as much as possible without translating into physical pain. She scratched at the spaces between his ribs, and played the bones like a piano, watching in satisfied amusement as every motion elicited the same, predictable reaction. Cackles, squeaks and voice-cracks echoed through the auditorium, almost sounding musical against the backing-track of her rock-opera, that no one had bothered to turn off. If anything, Bill was even squirmier than her brother was, which was certainly saying something. This was usually the point in the session where Dipper gave up fighting, especially when Stan was helping, since he obviously didn’t have a chance. But Bill still had some fight in him! 

“I don’t know what you did to deserve this, but clearly you’re gettin’ what’s coming to ya!” Stan accused, glancing over Bipper’s shoulder in an attempt to make eye contact. The kid was clearly avoiding it. But he still peeked up, for just a moment, if only to make a point to glare. Stan took advantage of his disorientation, knowing he was disarmed just long enough for him to be able to let go of his arms. Instead, he grabbed both wrists, and pulled them behind his back, like how a cop would while handcuffing you. But he didn’t need handcuffs, because his hands were big enough in comparison to grab both of the kid’s wrists in one of his palms while still having his fingers touch in the middle. And, with one hand free…he was able to pull out one last trick. 

Fingers skittered up Bipper’s spine, spurring out an involuntary shiver that was so intense, Bill was a little surprised it didn’t jolt him out of this body entirely. He didn’t get to dwell on how scarily close that had been to breaking him, though. Because in a second, that single skittering turned into a consistent, unrelenting scribble, and any coherent thought that was left slipped out through his fingers.

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Right. Almost all of the Pines’ were ticklish here. Maybe he should’ve seen that coming. 

It was positively overwhelming. Every curl of his blunt nails against the spot had his nerves lighting up in a frenzy, activating the useless instinct that had him squealing and laughing like this whole ordeal was the most hilarious joke he’d ever been told. But no part of this was funny!! Not when it was him! It was humiliating, at best, and a total disgrace to his reputation at worst. He was glad the folks at home couldn’t see this, because they would never let him live it down. 

“Ooh! Good call, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel praised, finally looking back up to meet his eyes with an approving smile on her face. She wished she could give him a thumbs up, but her hands were kinda busy. Bill couldn’t help but bristle at how unfair it was, that Stan could restrain him like this. He couldn’t lean forward even if he wanted to, and leaning backwards only pressed him further into that hand! And, somehow, despite the trap being objectively more simple, it was more confining! Now, he didn’t even have the privilege of flapping his hands, or making vaguely threatening gestures. And it all just tickled more! It was cruel, and unusual. He wrenched his eyes shut, and felt tears build in the corners. Crying had always been an annoying, uncontrollable thing his puppets did, but it felt especially humiliating in this context. Way to rub salt in the wound.

“MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Whether it be a blessing or a curse, neither of the two around him had a chance to respond to that miserable display of emotion. Because, somehow mockingly, his body turned against him. When he tried to catch his breath, he felt a hiccup of air in his chest…that caused a snort. 

The two at either of his sides brightened. And the crowd aww’ed.

He’d forgotten they were there. He was on a stage, and yet, the fact that there were more than four of them here had slipped his mind. Earlier, if he’d remembered, he would’ve shrugged it off. Whatever, who cared if they saw him like this? It wasn’t his reputation that was going to suffer for it. It was Pine Tree’s, who now had to go home and live the rest of his life knowing that most of this town had seen him get tickled on stage. And that was still, objectively, true! He knew that. He knew none of them would think twice about it. So why did the sudden realization have his face blushing hotter? Why did he feel this horrible, anxious fluttering in his stomach, like he was full of spiders? He didn’t know. But he knew it had to end. 

He couldn’t take it. It wasn’t just his self-inflicted injuries that ached, now, it was others-- his sides, and his throat, and the corners of his lips, were all begging him to just stop laughing. Other than the ache, he was pretty sure he could feel this vessel overheating. Being put in this embarrassing position had struck a match inside of him that was slowly cooking him from the inside out. But more than that, he was tired. And that was hardly a feeling he even understood. Alas, the human urge to melt into a puddle and sleep for eight hours was, apparently, real. He was on the verge of uttering a genuine please, if this didn’t end soon, and he didn’t want to pull that card unless it was a life-or-death situation. So, apparently, he only had one choice left…

Damn it. It wasn’t fair! He’d let them have this win, but his fun wasn’t over. This plan was only the first of many tricks he had up his sleeve. He glanced up at Mabel one last time, eyes narrowing, as if he could glare at her very soul. But she only countered it with a smirk. She knew she couldn’t lose. She’d never lost a tickle fight against her brother! 

Suddenly, the sound of his laughter began to taper off. It quieted into a fit of twitchy, broken coughs; it almost sounded like he was glitching. But then he slumped in his spot, quiet…and all four hands retracted. Dipper’s body melted into his Grunkle’s chest, eyes closed, as if he was out cold. Both attackers pulled back for a moment, visibly tense, and met eyes. Mabel, because she was testing to see if this was a good sign…and Stan, because he was genuinely startled. Jesus, he’d never passed out like that before! Usually he called it, when he knew he was getting to the end of his rope! Did they kill him on accident? There was a beat of silence that was just long enough to raise concern...and then, quick enough to be startling, Dipper sat up. He gasped, and clutched his chest, panting like he’d been awoken from a nightmare. And, well…he sort of had! Both of his family members jumped.

“Ahh!! He’s back!!” Mabel accused, lifting her clawed hands in preparation to strike again. She didn’t expect her brother to scream, flinching backwards in horror.